


Flexing With the Forest Clung

by thesunsetshigh



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Past Relationship(s), Slow Burn, Writer Lexa, alternative universe, mentions of previous abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-01 23:29:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12715038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesunsetshigh/pseuds/thesunsetshigh
Summary: In two words: wedding auWhen high school sweethearts Lincoln and Octavia tie the knot, Clarke Griffin knows it's time to return home. It's just that home has an all too familiar face waiting





	1. Chapter 1

Hi, I'm back again. Largely because I should be doing coursework. Don't mind me. also there's a typo in here somewhere and im sorry bc I noticed it when I was rereading it ukno but I caught another one and changed it and I'm so tipsy I can't read at this point so literally just tell me where it is and I'll be on it like a bonnet xoxoxoxo4 

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A Sunday wedding. 

A white dress, and Octavia looks beautiful. Clarke is glad she didn't miss it.

She sees some of her old high school friends sitting around her, and she gives them smiles that actually reach her eyes and she wonders whether she might be able to feel welcome in Jaha again. It's a small hope, but it's there. 

No one doubted that Lincoln and Octavia would one day be married, and here is the day, five years after leaving school and the whirlwind summers where they fell in love with each other and the world. 

The vows are as beautiful as the dress and the flowers which fill the church (the younger bridesmaids wear the same flowers weaved delicately into crowns). Octavia looks as youthful as ever, but she also seems wiser and more grown up. Clarke nods to herself - everybody looks older when you haven't seen them in years.

She had considered not attending when she got the invitation through the post two months before, but Lincoln nodded at her when he first saw her, and Bellamy waved from the front of the church where he was standing as best man, so yes, Clarke is glad she didn't miss it. She's sitting next to Jasper and Monty, and they're surprisingly well dressed. Clarke gives a soft laugh - Jasper has clearly grown out of his flight goggles phase.

The newly married couple seal the ceremony with a kiss, and wolf whistles erupt through the church, mostly from Lincoln's side, but everyone is cheering and clapping. Clarke is grinning because she never thought a wedding in a church could be so wild.

Octavia is laughing heartily at something Lincoln says to her as they walk back down the aisle, and they're sharing such a look of absolute love that Clarke feels the need to look away. 

So she does.

And her blue eyes lock instantly with green eyes on the other side of the church. 

Clarke's breath catches in her throat at the sight of Lexa, stunning in a dark emerald dress, but when the brunette drops her gaze Clarke is able to breathe again. 

She is able to turn to Monty and make small talk. 

A minute later she is able to walk out of the church - mercifully without tripping over her own feet.

The wedding party - and it is a party- takes place in what Clarke could only describe as a cave, settled deep in the forests that surround Jaha. The venue is charming though, even if it did take some time to get there.

"They never have been a conventional couple, but I don't see why they couldn't just book a hall near the church," says Raven as she stands next to Clarke and admires the dancing people who fill the room.

"Hello to you too," replies Clarke, laughing and nudging Raven.

"Shut it," the woman says, pulling Clarke into a clumsy hug. Apparently Raven has already started drinking. "I missed you Griffin."

"Missed you too, Raven." Clarke's smile is genuine.

"We need to catch up sometime. You here for long?"

Clarke shrugs, looking back around the room.

"Well look," continues Raven. "If you ever break something, the best mechanic in town is right here."

Clarke lifts an eyebrow at the slurred words.

"Okay, but maybe not tomorrow. Tomorrow I am recovering from this."

"Of course," laughs Clarke. She smiles as she sees Bellamy walking over to them.

Raven gives Clarke another hug and stumbles off into the depths of the cave.

Bellamy punches Clarke's shoulder lightly. "So, Princess," he says. His voice is deeper than Clarke remembered. "I think you owe me a dance."

Clarke snorts but lets herself be pulled onto the dance floor and wraps her arms around his neck. They sway slowly to the music.

"How have you been, Bell?" she asks as the song plays quietly.

"I've been good, missed my best friend though."

"You're just jealous because you had to stay here in Jaha whilst I got to see the world," Clarke teases.

Bellamy nods. "Yeah," he admits before spinning them both round. They're so out of time with the music it makes them laugh.

"Oh wow, it's been too long” says Clarke.

Bellamy huffs in agreement, shaking his head to get his dark hair from his face. "Did you find your peace then, out in the big wide world?"

"You can talk about peace!" jokes Clarke. They're sitting at a spare table now. "I remember when Octavia first introduced Lincoln. 'My sister, my responsibility'" Clarke mocks, lowering her voice and bulking her shoulders to imitate Bellamy.

He only smiles and drops his head. "Look Princess, if you really want to go there, we can talk about you and Lexa."

"There's nothing to talk about," says Clarke, shaking her head at Bellamy.

"All I'm saying is," he starts as he leans back lazily in his chair. "You practically ran from the church when you saw her."

"I didn't run!"

Bellamy snorts. "I came over to say hello and you were flying down the aisle. You ran, Clarke."

She sighs, narrowing her eyes at Bellamy and his observant nature. "I just didn't expect to see her here." 

"She is sort of related to Lincoln. And it is his wedding." Bellamy states carefully.

"I know, I know-" replies Clarke. "I guess I forgot that part."

Bellamy looks at Clarke. "She's over there if you're looking for her."

Despite herself, Clarke follows Bellamy's gaze and sees Lexa standing on the other side of the dance floor. Her back is turned away as she listens intently to something Indra is telling her. She's still as stunning, but in the shadows of the cave her dress makes her skin look almost golden. She looks regal, and Clarke thinks it's unfair that she looks so beautiful.

Clarke swallows.

"She's not going to talk to you first," Bellamy tells Clarke."If you want to talk to her you're going to have to be the one to speak to her."

"I don't want to talk to her," says Clarke. She sounds petty and she hates it. She also sounds fake, and she hates that more. 

Bellamy doesn't comment on Clarke's lie, but lets her take a moment to think to herself. "I think you should," he says eventually. "You'll only regret it if you don't."

Clarke looks at Bellamy and sees that he's giving her a gentle, encouraging smile. 

"Don't worry about me Princess, I need to go and make sure Raven isn't making explosives out of anything she can get her hands on."

"It wouldn't be the first time," observes Clarke, laughing.

"No," replies Bellamy as he pats Clarke on the knee and stands up. "It wouldn't."

Sighing, Clarke sits back and twists her hands together as Bellamy walks off. She can't help it when her eyes drift up and find Lexa and she doesn't look away when the brunette catches her staring. Separated only by the moving bodies on the dance floor, it seems to Clarke like a cruel reminder of how tricky time and distance could be. 

When Lexa still doesn't look away, Clarke stands and walks to find Octavia and congratulate her. Or maybe Monty and Jasper again. Anybody who would distract her from the alluring gaze of Lexa Woods. Because she remembers the last time she saw her, and it still sort of hurts.

She tries to stop herself, an hour later, when she sees the woman dancing on the floor. Lexa isn't smiling, which doesn't surprise Clarke, but she's moving elegantly with some people who Clarke vaguely recognises and Clarke can't help but want to stand where they are standing instead. Lexa looks good, great even, and so much more confident than Clarke would have ever imagined back in high school. It's a quiet confidence that runs through her stance and the way she holds her head high. 

That's why Clarke does it, because some part of her needs to know how Lexa can stand so sure of herself. So she steps onto the dance floor, and when the woman looks right at her she doesn't shy away. She holds her gaze, and her pace, placing each step firmly as she makes her way through the dancing people.

Lexa hasn't moved, and it's like her eyes are anchors because somehow Clarke manages to make her way through the dancing people without being dragged away in the current of celebration. She stands in front of the woman, a metre away, wide eyed and lips parted.

Around them, the song changes, and it's louder and Clarke finds it difficult to think. Lexa is still looking at her calmly, and Clarke wants to say something but she knows her words will only be lost in the storm of the music. Lexa's stubbornness is both infuriating and intriguing at the same time. 

Bellamy was right, Clarke would have to be the one to speak first. 

Lexa looks to her side as a dancer bumps into her, and the spell holding Clarke transfixed breaks as the eye contact is lost. Clarke doesn't hesitate, she takes Lexa by the wrist (albeit a little roughly) and leads her off of the dance floor and outside of the cave until they're away from people.

Clarke releases the woman's wrist and watches it fall to the side. It's red where she held on so tightly, and Clarke would feel sorry for Lexa but the woman was never one to show pain and apparently that hasn't changed. Instead, Clarke sets her shoulders and raises her chin.

"I think we should talk" Clarke says bluntly, pulling a stray hair away from her own face. It's raining outside, but neither woman moves to stay dry. 

"Clarke," replies Lexa, "a wedding is no place for an argument."

The blonde raises an eyebrow and looks around her. Night has fallen, and ignoring the distant pulse of music coming from inside the cave, it is easy to believe that they are alone. 

"No one is paying attention to us, Lexa."

"Clarke," Lexa warns as the blonde steps forward. They're standing very close together.

"If you don't want to talk here then we will leave and talk somewhere else. But we are talking."

Lexa sighs and looks away from the blonde, leaning down to undo the clasps on her high heeled shoes and slipping them off of her feet. She is still taller. "Go say goodbye to your friends and get your things Clarke, I'll bring my car around."

Clarke tilts her head in question. "Haven't you had a drink?" she asks.

"I don't like alcohol at social events," replies Lexa, giving Clarke a tired look, "And I doubt I ever will." She clenches her jaw before turning gracefully away and walking towards where the cars are parked. 

When Clarke leaves the cave five minutes later, she sees a black car waiting at the entrance. By now, her make up is ruined and her hair is a mess because of the rain, but she still doesn't rush to climb into the vehicle. She takes her time to gather herself because her heart is racing at the thought of being truly alone with Lexa after all these years and she is unsure of everything that is about to happen.

Taking her time goes to waste the second she opens the door and sits in the passenger seat because Lexa drives as soon as the door is shut. Which leaves Clarke to put on her seat belt as they hurtle around the dark corners of the forest road.

"Are you trying to kill us both?" quips Clarke. Lexa looks over at her but doesn't respond. "Fine. Ignore me. We both know you're good at that."

Lexa sighs. "Do you like driving in the rain, Clarke? Because be my guest." For a minute they both sit in a silence. "And I never ignored you."

"You moved state without even talking to me!"

"And you moved country!" replies Lexa. Her grip on the steering wheel is so tight that her hands are white and Clarke can see the rigid tension all the way up the brunette's arms. 

Clarke lets the anger pass and looks out of the window and at the trees that are illuminated by the cars headlights. "Where are we going?" she asks.

"Nowhere is open at this time of the night. So we're going to my house. It isn't far."

Lexa is right, thinks Clarke as they pull into the gravel driveway of the woman's house only twenty minutes later. Neither woman says anything as they climb out of the car, and the bitter silence is only extended as they walk up to the house. Lexa opens the door and walks inside without even glancing at Clarke.

Following the woman, Clarke steps slowly into the house and is surprised by what she sees. The walls are mostly bare, and through the doors in the hallway she can see few furnishings. Lexa's house is minimalist to the extreme.

"I have not lived here very long," Lexa explains with an unapologetic shrug when she sees Clarke staring. Lexa moves to the kitchen, and flicks on the light. 

Like a moth to a flame, Clarke follows her again. Now, the woman is rummaging through cupboards, slamming two glasses onto the sideboard. Clarke, deciding to stay out of her way, pulls a chair out from beneath the kitchen island and sits down. 

Lexa leaves the room and returns a minute later, sliding a dusty bottle of whiskey across the desktop to Clarke and passing her the two glasses.

"I thought you didn't like alcohol?" Clarke asks as she measures two shots of whiskey.

Taking her glass, Lexa gives the blonde a scalding look. "I would hardly call this a social event, Clarke."

Still looking at each other, they clink the two glasses together and take their shots. The whiskey burns at Clarke's throat but Lexa seems unfazed.

"How was college?" Clarke asks when she has recovered.

Lexa shrugs and turns to the sink, washing her glass with water before placing it down softly. The back of her dress is low cut, and Clarke watches the muscles of the woman's back move before forcing herself to look away.

"Expensive," Lexa says as she lifts herself smoothly onto the counter. Clarke gulps as the woman brushes the material of her emerald dress down. "I tried to call you, Clarke. Many times."

Clarke nods, staring down at the empty glass in her hand. "I got a new phone," she admits. "I needed a different contract when I got to England."

Lexa huffs. "Well," she says, jumping off the counter delicately. "That explains that then."

"I would have stayed," Clarke counters as she follows the other woman into the living room. Lexa sits down in an arm chair and Clarke sits on the couch. There is a light in the room, but it is not very strong. "But if I remember correctly," the blonde continues, "I wasn't the one who left first."

"You wouldn't understand why I had to leave state, Clarke, but believe me when I say it was not an easy choice to make."

"Lexa you didn't even mention that you were leaving until you were gone!"

"I was going to. But then Anya died and it really wasn't the thing on my mind. I just needed to leave."

The anger in the air stills as Clarke takes in Lexa's solemn gaze.

"I'm sorry about Anya, you know I am, but you kissed me and you left the next day without saying a thing. I found out you left from Lincoln. That wasn't fair on either of us, Lexa."

The woman nods. "I know it wasn't. Life's not fair. Or did your middle class mother forget to tell you that?"

"Don't you dare bring my mother into this, Lexa," hisses Clarke. "She may not be perfect but at least she fucking stayed."

"Your life was perfect compared to mine, Clarke. Don't even try to deny it."

"How would I know what your life was like, Lexa? You never told me anything! All I know is that when my parents divorced I was forced to leave my life behind and move across the world."

Lexa clenches her jaw, staring adamantly at Clarke from across the room. "At least your parents cared for you."

Clarke shakes her head. "You can't say things like that unless you're going to explain yourself. Changing the topic was fine when we were younger, but this isn't high school anymore."

Sighing, Lexa throws her arms to the back of her neck and rest her head roughly on the back of the chair she is sitting in. "Don't ruin the evening, Clarke," she speaks to the ceiling. 

Letting out a humourless laugh, Clarke looks at the woman. "The evening was ruined the second I saw you."

Lexa pulls her gaze back to Clarke and narrows her eyes. "And yet," she starts, tilting her head, "you're in my house, demanding to talk."

Clarke shrugs but doesn't deny it. "You used to come around my house all the time, Lexa. You know, before you left."

The brunette frowns. "We were young. And I had to leave."

"Then tell me!" Clarke responds, shifting forward to lean her elbows on her knees. "Tell me why you left, and then I can go, and we don't need to talk again."

"Why do you want to talk anyway?" Lexa asks.

Clarke drops her head and shrugs. "I think you owe me at least a conversation."

Lexa huffs and takes a hair tie from her wrist. She pulls her hair up into a pony tail. "I don't talk to people, Clarke. I never have."

"I was hoping maybe you would have grown up enough to realise that not talking to people is stupid. Apparently not."

"I grew up the day my parents found out about Costia."

The blonde looks up to see Lexa staring at her. 

"You remember Costia, Clarke?" Lexa continues, "My parents were huge fans of their gay daughter."

Clarke frowns. "I knew your parents weren't great Lexa, but-"

"My parents weren't great is the biggest understatement I have ever heard," Lexa mutters. She stands and walks to a window of the living room. It's still raining heavily outside. "I did talk to people," she says after a minute of silence. "I talked to Anya."

"You could have spoken to me, Lexa, we were friends."

"Clarke, you wouldn't have understood."

"Then talk to me now," the blonde suggests. 

"I- I need a minute." Lexa shakes her head, flustered. "I need to be alone for a minute."

"Okay," Clarke says quietly. She stays seated as she watches the other woman leave the room quickly.

When Lexa returns some time later she has changed her clothes. Gone is her dress, replaced with a pair of leggings, a tank top and a loose fitting cardigan. Clarke has pulled her feet up beneath her and is now resting her elbow on the arms of the couch. Her hand holds her chin as she stares unseeing at the floor.

Lexa pauses for a moment, leaning into the shadows of her living room's doorway. "Where are you staying?" she asks.

Clarke doesn't move. "My mom's. I flew in yesterday."

"You can stay here for the night if you want. I've got clothes you can borrow. Save you calling a cab." 

The blonde bites her lip as she contemplates the offer.

"I might even let you have a shower," jokes Lexa lightly with a shrug of her shoulders. "Wouldn't want your makeup ruining my pillowcases. They're new."

A faint smile creeps onto Clarke's face as she looks at Lexa. "Oh yes, and how many times did you ruin my pillows during our sleepovers?"

"And yet my eyeliner was still impeccable," Lexa laughs.

Clarke shakes her head softly. "You never went a day without it. I think today might be the first time I've seen your face so clear."

"I don't need it anymore," says Lexa shrugging.

"You're easily the prettiest girl I have ever seen," states Clarke, turning to face Lexa fully as the woman perches on the arm at the other side of the couch. "Why on earth did you need makeup?"

"My parents weren't that great," answers Lexa calmly. She watches the smile slip from Clarke's face in recognition.

"Lexa, I - I wouldn't -" begins Clarke, flustered. "I didn't realise..."

"You weren't supposed to, Clarke. Makeup hides bruises."

Lexa is still sitting on the arm, as pulled together as ever as Clarke studies her face.

"That's why Lincoln moved in with Indra?" the blonde asks.

The other woman drops her gaze. "Yes."

"Lexa.." Clarke breathes as she moves across the couch to kneel closer to the brunette. The material of her dress makes it uncomfortable, but Clarke doesn't care. 

"You were my friend, and I should have told you Clarke. I'm sorry."

"Under no circumstances do you need to apologise for that, Lexa, do you hear?" replies Clarke, placing a hand gently on Lexa's knee.

"No, Clarke. I took advantage of our friendship. You trusted me with everything, and I told you nothing."

"Lexa..."

"No, I - I can't talk about this right now." Lexa stands and walks around the room. Clarke's hand falls onto the couch.

"Okay, so tell me about Polis." Clarke says softly. 

"Polis?"

"That's where you went to college, right?" Clarke queries. Lexa stops her pacing. "Lincoln told me," the blonde explains.

"Yeah, I went to Polis." The woman sits down on the floor with her back against a wall. "I lived with Gustus, I think you met him once."

"At our graduation?" Clarke asks, trying to remember the day. "Tall? Beard? Threatened to kill me?"

"That's the one," says Lexa, smiling. Clarke is glad to see that she has calmed down. "Wait, he threatened to kill you?"

"He might have done," says Clarke with a shrug.

"It's a pity he didn't," Lexa replies and Clarke lets out a laugh. The quick banter Clarke remembers from high school is still there. "But what about you, Clarke? I wasn't the only one who moved."

"Hey!" Clarke exclaims, holding up her hands in joke surrender. "I only moved because you weren't around. Hard to complete a bucket list when my best friend leaves."

Lexa rolls her eyes but she's still smiling. "What did your mom think of you moving away? I thought you were set for medical school."

"I was," replies Clarke, "but then I spoke to my dad about everything, and he offered me a room in his house."

"Your mom let you just move?"

"It was only supposed to be for the summer." Clarke explains. "And she didn't get a say after she moved me in the divorce." She moves to sit on the floor like Lexa, but with her back against the couch and her legs stretched out straight in front of her.

"You pulled the divorce card, Clarke?" asks Lexa, almost in awe. The teenage girl that helped Clarke adjust to living in Jaha when Clarke first moved there rising to the surface. "That's the nuclear move!"

"Sue me, I'm ruthless" jokes Clarke. She pulls a cushion from the couch and throws it at Lexa who catches it expertly.

"So England then?" Lexa raises an eyebrow. "Meet any cute boys?"

Clarke shrugs. "Yeh, but the girls were just as good."

"Called it!" exclaims Lexa, laughing. She dodges the next cushion.

"You kissed me before you left and it was more than just a little peck," Clarke says, shaking her head. "You must have known I wasn't straight."

"I wasn't sure if you were just confused," Lexa admits.

"Maybe if you had stuck around, you would have found out." Clarke replies lightly.

"I couldn't stay, Clarke. Not with Anya gone."

"I know that now," the blonde assures quietly. 

Lexa nods, and the women fall into a comfortable silence. The rain outside is still falling heavily against the window.

When Clarke yawns a minute later, her eyes widen and she looks around the room in search of a clock. "Fuck," she says, "what time is it?"

"Somewhere between three and four in the morning. I'm impressed you're still awake, Clarke. You know, with the time difference," muses Lexa.

"I don't know how I am," admits Clarke. Now that she thinks about it, she is very tired.

"Do you want to sleep down here, I can bring down some sheets?" asks Lexa, standing and stretching her legs. Clarke looks away. "Or we can share a bed. It'll be just like old times."

Clarke looks up to see the woman's extended hand. "Okay, but I'm not spooning you." 

Lexa snorts and pulls Clarke up. "You'll complain when you're cold, Clarke."

"Shh" the blonde replies, pushing the taller woman's shoulder.

Lexa gets two bottles of water from her kitchen before leading Clarke up the stairs.

"So am I going to discover any angry girlfriends in your bed, because I'm so tired I'll probably pass out before they get a chance to attack me."

"Plural, Clarke?" replies Lexa, walking onto the landing. "I couldn't even hold on to one girlfriend."

Unseen, Clarke raises an eyebrow at Lexa as the woman enters an unlit room. The blonde follows blindly.

Lexa's bedroom is large, and Clarke watches as the taller woman moves to a dresser on the far wall. Lexa rummages through the drawers, glancing over her shoulder at Clarke before chucking sweatpants and a shirt into the waiting woman's arms.

"Yeah this is great and all, but do you have a hoodie or something?" says Clarke, grinning. "I don't want to get cold or we'd have to spoon."

Lexa shakes her head, smiling. "Go use the bathroom Clarke, I'll get you one now. There's a toothbrush under the sink."

Clarke nods and walks into the bathroom, ensuite of course. 

"So are you not in work tomorrow or..." calls Clarke when she has finished brushing her teeth. 

"No," Lexa calls back, her voice faint through the closed door. 

"Erm.." Clarke replies, sighing to herself as she unlocks the door and walks back into Lexa's bedroom. She has the sweat pants on under the dress, but she was unable to reach the zip at the back. She is aware she looks ridiculous.

Lexa doesn't laugh when she looks up, but her lips purse with amusement. She's sitting in bed with a book in her hands.

"Don't judge me."

Lexa puts the book down. "Come here," she says. 

Clarke walks towards the bed and turns around, waiting quietly as Lexa moves the blonde hair out of her way and pulls at the zip.

"Shit," says Clarke, jumping. "Your hands are cold!" 

Lexa chuckles.

"Just like your heart" Clarke continues.

The other woman fakes offence. "That was cold." She pats Clarke's shoulder when she finishes.

Clarke chuckles and walks to the other side of the bed. She pulls the dress over her head and theN slips the shirt on as Lexa returns to her book. 

"Never thought seeing you again would be so domestic."

Lexa looks up at Clarke's words. "I can't say I disagree Clarke. But I thought you were tired."

"I'm beyond tired. I'm in another dimension I'm so tired," shrugs Clarke. "The wedding was beautiful."

"Very domestic," mutters Lexa, marking the page of her book and placing it closed on the bedside table. She turns off the lamp. "I liked the flowers."

"Octavia was hot."

"Did you find any alcohol in the bathroom?"

"I only drank the whiskey you gave me. It's another dimension, I told you that already." Clarke says with a laugh.

"Hmm."

"You were beautiful too Lexa. I mean you're beautiful now, but you were beautiful at the wedding."

"Clarke, you're only saying that because you're in my bed."

"Every woman's dream, Lexa, every woman's dream."

There is silence for a moment, the rain patters on the window.

"Go to sleep Clarke." Lexa says softly.

"I am," the blonde replies before she closes her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Are we all proud of me for doing my coursework and actually doing it ahead of time? good, good to hear it.

here, my loves, is the second chapter of this little fic I fondly refer to as wedding au, or more accurately, 'I have a vague idea where this is going, but at least my audience and I can go on the journey together'

anyways, do let me know what you think, I can take it, I promise. Peace.

\---------

When Clarke wakes up she discovers that she did not spoon Lexa. At least she assumes so, because Lexa is very much not in the bed. 

Stretching, Clarke stands up and pulls on the hoodie Lexa left out for her. It's soft, with long sleeves that entirely consume Clarke's arms, so the blonde takes the spare material of the cuffs into her hands and holds onto them. She feels like a kid again.

Clarke doesn't know what time it is, but the slice of light slipping past the blinds in the window suggests that it is at least morning. Awake now, her senses are more alert than with the initial fog of sleep that dimmed them, and she can hear movements from outside the bedroom. Lexa is in the house somewhere, and Clarke is determined to find her.

She pushes open the door of the bedroom with a yawn, and the rhythmic click of a keyboard pulls her attention to a room at the end of the hallway. Through the open door, she can see Lexa bathing in the dusty light of the morning sun as she types away on a computer, but she is turned away and hasn't seen Clarke. Slowly, the blonde walks forward to lean against the frame of the doorway to watch, just watch.

"So you're up," mutters Lexa as she continues working, rolling her computer chair across her office to a bookshelf and searching the covers. 

"Always one to state the obvious," replies Clarke as she takes in the rest of the office. It's open and airy and the view outside of the window almost takes her breath away. "You should have woken me."

Lexa looks up when she's placed a book on her desk and raises an eyebrow at the other woman. "It's a quarter to nine, Clarke, and you said you were tired."

"I'll let you off then," starts Clarke. "Quarter to nine?" she asks a second later when Lexa's words actually register with her brain. Her eyes widen as she stares at the brunette who hasn't turned back to her work. "Why on earth are you up and dressed so early?"

"Not everybody is as lazy as you, Clarke," replies Lexa with a smirk. The woman stands and leans over the desk to save the document on her computer - Clarke looks away. "I went for a run and started work," Lexa continues as she turns back to Clarke.

The blonde narrows her eyes. "Weirdo," she mutters.

Lexa lets out a chuckle and gestures to Clarke to walk out of the office. "Are you hungry Clarke? I was about to make breakfast."

Clarke gives Lexa a look that says yes, she is hungry, and Lexa fully laughs. "Shower, Clarke, it'll be ready when you're out."

Twenty minutes later, Clarke walks downstairs to the sizzle of cooking bacon and she nearly moans at the smell. She enters the kitchen as Lexa is placing buttered bread onto the island.

"Sorry I don't have tea, Clarke," says Lexa over her shoulder.

"You have bacon," replies Clarke as she sits at the chair she sat in the night before. "Nothing else matters right now."

Lexa smiles, puts a dish of bacon onto the island and sits down in the spare chair. "Help yourself," she says.

"So, work then?" asks Clarke when she's finished her breakfast. She pushes her plate away from her and rests her elbows on the island. "What do you do?"

The other woman looks up at Clarke. "I write, mostly. In a few weeks I will teach self defence and survival in Mount Weather."

"The Grounders Camp?"

"The very same," nods Lexa. "How did you know?"

"My mom is engaged to one of the trainers there. Marcus." Clarke says quietly

"Kane?" asks the brunette. Clarke nods. "Yes he's in charge of firearms training, I didn't realise your mother was remarrying."

"Neither did I," replies Clarke with a sigh. "Have you met him?"

Lexa watches Clarke as she replies. "Only on the day I transferred from Polis. You have not met him?"

"My mom told me about him on the phone," Clarke shrugs.

"I am sorry for what I said yesterday about your mother, Clarke, it was out of line."

"You were right to be angry." Clarke says, smiling softly at Lexa. "I should get back to her house though, do you have a number for a cab?"

The other woman shakes her head and stands. "Don't worry about a cab, I'll drive you home, Clarke."

Once seated in Lexa's car, the two women fall into a somewhat uncomfortable silence. When Lexa asks, Clarke reveals that no, they haven't moved house, and the address is the same as it was in high school. So Lexa nods her head, and without another word pulls out of her driveway and onto the road.

In the daylight, Clarke can see the house more clearly, and now realises that although it's situated on the edge of a forest and surrounded mostly by trees, it is also on the outskirts of a small village that neighbours Jaha. 

"Why did you move back?" Clarke asks as she watches the village roads get busier and the houses get closer together. 

"Missed the trees. Nothing like smelling of leaves and dirt all day to get the mind working." Lexa doesn't look away from the road as she answers.

"You sound like a painter," Clarke muses, though her eyes also haven't left the road. "You're a bit more sarcastic than I thought you'd be."

"Think about me often Clarke?" 

The blonde looks at Lexa, but the other woman refuses to look back. Clarke can see the faintest smirk pulling at Lexa's lips and narrows her own eyes. "Only when I'm throwing up," she replies.

Lexa's eyebrows shoot up and the smirk turns into an easy smile. "Still can't handle your drink then?"

"Hey!" scoffs Clarke. "That was one time, and Monty's moonshine concoctions are beyond questionable."

"You threw up like a waterfall, Clarke."

"You say you're a writer, Lexa, is that the best simile you can come up with?" Clarke jokes.

"Fine," shrugs Lexa, losing the smile and taking a dramatic tone. "Your vomit was like the eruption of a mighty volcano, it seeped through the room like lava through a city, billowed against the ceiling like the clouds of heavy smoke. As toxic as ash."

"Okay, that's gross, Lexa."

"Thanks."

Clarke shakes her head and looks back to the road. She recognises the houses - they're back in Jaha.

"I heard about the camp looking for instructors, and Indra told me that my parents moved away," Lexa answers honestly after a moment of thinking. Again, her eyes are focused on the traffic in front of them.

"Do you know where they moved to?" asks Clarke gently. She pulls at the material of the dress she has placed in her lap.

"City of Light," replies Lexa. "And no, it's not heaven." The 'they'd be lucky to get into hell' went unspoken. "It's somewhere up North - Canada I think."

"Well I'm glad you're back. I mean, I'm glad I got to see you, at least."

Lexa gives Clarke a small smile. "And I am glad I got to see you, Clarke."

Clarke nods and looks away before her chest gets too tight. Lexa turns into the familiar street and comes to a stop outside of Clarke's house. 

It's a quiet street, lined with trees and lawns which are generous and, for the most part, are well kept. Clarke smiles as she remembers autumn evenings sat on her doorstep with Lexa as they talked about everything and anything. 

"You can come in if you would like," Clarke tells the other woman who was patiently waiting for Clarke to react to their arrival.

"We're not teenagers anymore Clarke, you should get on with your day."

"No seriously Lexa, come in and I'll change so I can give you your clothes back." insists the blonde as she opens the door to the car.

Lexa sighs and switches off the engine, following Clarke up the pathway.

"I mean, they won't be washed or anything," continues Clarke, rambling as she leans down to move the welcome mat and picking up a spare key. "But then we won't have to see each other." She unlocks the door. "We won't have to talk again. You will have to wait though, just so that I can change-”

"Clarke, it's okay. I'll wait."

Clarke glances at Lexa, who nods her head and offers a reassuring smile. Biting her lip, the blonde pushes open the front door and walks inside. 

She had let herself in the day before in order to put her bags away and get ready for the wedding, but she had been rushed for time. The walls are still beige though, and the picture frame above the fireplace still bears the same toothy grin of a middle school aged Clarke Griffin caught in the headlock of Bellamy Blake. 

"Your mom is not in?" questions Lexa, noticing the silence of the house.

"Double shift at the hospital," explains Clarke. She hasn't seen her mother since she arrived back in Jaha, but she pushes that to the back of her mind. "Do you want a drink or anything?"

"No thank you Clarke."

"You sure? Because I'm getting water," the blonde checks, walking through the house to the kitchen.

"I will be fine Clarke."

Clarke nods at Lexa and turns the corner to get to the sink. She pulls a glass from the cupboard and fills it with water. With her mom at work so often, Clarke is used to the feeling of an empty home, but even with her time away the sound of the open tap echoing against the sterile tiles of the pointlessly huge kitchen makes Clarke feel smaller than she wants to. So she shuts off the tap, sets down the glass and lifts her head. Then she walks out of the kitchen.

Lexa is waiting for her in the hallway of the house, sitting on the bottom step of the stairs and leaning patiently against the bannister. She looks up as Clarke walks to her. 

"Come on up to my room," instructs Clarke, offering Lexa a hand and pulling the woman to her feet.

"Is that a pick up line, Clarke, because I doubt your mother would be pleased to know you've already chosen your victim."

"Oh please," responds Clarke, laughing as she walks up the stairs. "I stayed last night in your bed, when my mom finds out she'll have your head."

Lexa chuckles, following Clarke through the house. She doesn't need to, she's been here hundreds of times before, but boundaries were crossed and now the house feels different. It feels smaller, and Clarke feels closer even as she moves straight into her room and Lexa is left on the landing. Clarke gives her a look through the doorway.

"Just get in here Lexa, it'll only take a minute for me to change and then you can go."

Obliging, Lexa steps inside the room and smiles faintly at the way it hasn't changed. She almost frowns at Clarke's suitcase which sits at the foot of her bed but she stops it from reaching her face. She watches Clarke throw yesterday's dress onto the back of her chair and pull a set of clothes from the suitcase.

"I'll be right back," Clarke states uncertainly, weighing the clothes in her hand. Lexa nods and the blonde leaves the room quickly to change elsewhere.

Alone, Lexa thinks back to her younger years, spent mostly in this room. Sometimes Clarke had other friends round too - Octavia and Raven were frequent visitors - but often it was Clarke and Lexa alone, doing homework, playing video games, reading. 

The last time Lexa was in this room they hadn't been reading though. She had been scared, terrified and bruised, and Clarke had been so close to finding out the truth. So Lexa had been in a terrible mood and then Clarke was in a terrible mood and then they were talking about college and suddenly they were arguing. And then they weren't, because they were kissing. 

Many memories have turned foggy with time, but for Lexa the kiss is as clear as if it happened yesterday. The nerves pulsing through her veins, the softness of Clarke's skin where her hand had found the back of blonde's neck. The soothing warmth of Clarke's hand upon a hip which did not often see such delicacy. Sighing, Lexa pulls her mind away from the past and finds her gaze is falling upon Clarke's old school desk. She smiles softly when she recognises a battered sketch book - in high school it had never been far from Clarke's hands.

"You can look through it if you want," shares Clarke when she has changed and is hovering in the doorway of her room. 

Lexa looks to the blonde who nods again, then looks back to the desk as she feels the bed shift slightly under Clarke's gentle weight. Lexa picks up the book and opens it out onto their laps. They're sitting closer than she realised.

Clarke scans the pages as Lexa studies them, careful eyes following the delicate strokes of steady pencils and patient hands. The proof of committed hours and forgone homework. Lexa has seen them before - was even at Clarke's side for the majority of the time they were being drawn, but she still finds a comfort in the way the work presents another world. In her youth they had reminded Lexa that other lives could exist..

She lets Clarke turn another page, lifting it at the corner and lowering it carefully down on the other side and Lexa's breath slips from her lungs. Before her, her own eyes stare back, captured smiling in the eternal happiness of a monochrome portrait.

"You didn't tear it out," Lexa whispers, cautious of breaking whatever fragile moment that is forming and filling the inches between their bodies.

"I'd already burnt all our photos," replies Clarke, but her dull tone leaves Lexa unsure of how truthful the statement is. Especially when Clarke's eyes drift to a single photo frame on her window sill hiding behind a half drawn curtain. It's a photo from a Halloween party and Lexa can see Clarke's astronaut costume and knows if she moved the curtain she'd see her own army costume. Clarke kept the photos, and the drawings.

A moment later and Lexa's hands are ghosting over the page of the sketchbook and Clarke's head drops onto the other woman's shoulder. Clarke's hand drifts to cover Lexa's hand and for a while they sit like that. For a while it is timeless, and for a while they are ageless.

Eventually Clarke shifts and stands up. She clears her throat. "Here are your clothes," she tells Lexa as she passes the brunette a carrier bag.

"Thank you," responds Lexa. She also stands, and the room, as pointlessly large as the kitchen downstairs, feels small and the silence feels suffocating. "They looked good on you Clarke."

"You should see them when they're off," jokes Clarke halfheartedly, but when their eyes connect both women are quick to look away. 

"I should go," muses Lexa. 

"I'll see you out," replies the blonde, again walking ahead and leaving Lexa to trail behind. Clarke opens the front door and steps aside so that the taller woman can pass through. "Thanks for driving me here."

"It wasn't a problem," smiles Lexa. "I'll see you around, Clarke."

The blonde watches as the other woman walks down the pathway and climbs into the car. Clarke can see that she is light on her feet, but her movements are flowing and graceful. When Lexa drives off, Clarke closes the door. 

Several hours later and Clarke is sitting on her bed, flicking through old dog-eared magazines when the sound of keys in the lock rings through the house. She jumps to her feet and runs down the stairs.

"Clarke?"

"Mom," laughs Clarke, clearing the last few steps in a leap and launching herself at her mother. She's still wearing scrubs of course, but that's to be expected.

"How was your flight?" Abby asks once she's washed and changed and they're settled on couch in the living room. 

"Long," sighs Clarke. "And it smelled like feet."

Abby smiles. "Sorry I couldn't pick you up, sweetie, I did try."

"I know you did mom" Clarke insists, returning her mother's smile. "Was the hospital busy?"

"Hectic," replies Abby. She rolls her eyes and begins recounting her shift as Clarke listens intently. For a while it is almost as if Clarke had never been away.

"So when are you going to tell me about Marcus?" Clarke asks quietly when they've both fallen into a natural silence. Abby looks over at her with testing eyes.

"You're not a kid anymore," sighs Abby, sitting up and pulling her feet beneath her. "He's smart, loyal..."

"It sounds like you're describing a dog there, mom."

"Clarke, I'd like you to meet him."

Her daughter raises an eyebrow. "You're already engaged, thanks for ringing me about that by the way, and you'd like me to meet him now?"

"You hardly wanted anything to do with me for the last five years sweetie, I had to let you do your own thing," responds Abby. It's not like she is proud of the circumstances, but she trusts Clarke to understand.

"I just think it's a shame you never gave Raven a shot," Clarke jests. "She'll be heartbroken to hear you're moving on."

Abby laughs at Clarke's comment. Raven, slightly older than Clarke but still in the same grade due to missing school for medical reasons, was always flirting shamelessly with Abby whenever the doctor was at home, and the woman for the most part found herself flirting back. Much to the amusement of Clarke, who in some odd way, totally shipped it..

"Tell her she can be best man so if Marcus abandons me we can marry instead."

"I don't think she will want to talk about weddings right now," reveals Clarke. "Last I heard she was suffering from a hangover the size of a space station."

Abby chuckles and stands. "Not as young as she wants to be I don't doubt."

"None of us are," admits Clarke.

"How long are you staying?" Abby questions.

Clarke sighs as she thinks to herself. "I think I'm ready to move back here, but I need to look into finding a house, and a job."

Her mom moves to the mantelpiece and flicks open a small box. "Your car is still in the garage," she informs Clarke as she tosses the keys towards the couch. "But it'll need tests before it can be on the road again."

"I'll take it round Raven's during the week, apparently she's the best mechanic anyway." 

Abby laughs.

"You going to bed?" Clarke asks, noticing her mom try and fail to stifle a yawn.

"No, I want to spend time with you."

"Mom, I'll be here in the morning, and the morning after that," replies Clarke sweetly. "I'm not going anywhere so you should go to bed before you pass out here."

"Fine," says Abby, eyes crinkling with a fond smile at Clarke's words. "But give your mother a hug before I go upstairs"

Clarke rolls her eyes but stands, and envelops her mother in a warm hug. "Now go," the blonde tells the older woman, "because I'm not carrying you up those stairs."

Abby chuckles and releases Clarke, leaving a tender kiss on her daughter's forehead. "I've missed you Clarke," she admits.

"I've missed you too, mom," Clarke replies, squeezing her mother's shoulder. Abby grins softly and heads to her room, and Clarke is left in the emptiness of the living room.

There's a bottle of wine in the fridge, Clarke discovers that evening after watching hours of boring sitcoms, and she has just enough dignity to grab a glass out of the cupboard before moving back to the living room to sit down. It feels odd to be home, like slipping on a pair of someone else's shoes when you step outside for a second - they don't quite fit right, they never have, and they never will. So when Clarke drinks the wine, she lets the buzz of alcohol dim her thoughts just enough that she doesn't feel out of place. The room feels less empty when her hand is holding a glass.

In her pocket, her phone buzzes and she pulls it out. There's a message from her dad which she forgot to respond to earlier, so she replies to that, and then she reads the new message from an unknown number. "Abby told me you needed a mechanic," the message reads. Okay, thinks Clarke, so Raven. "I'll swing by in the morning. Be there at around 8."

Clarke smiles and types out her agreement.. She glances at the top of the screen, sees that it's already ten at night, and decides that staying up would only result in more wine drinking. In her travelling years that might have been okay, but to wake up early these days and expect to function in a recognisably human manner after half a bottle of wine? Unlikely.

She flicks the lights of downstairs as she moves through the house, padding softly on the stairs and tiptoeing across the landing into the bathroom. She's used to being quiet with her mom home, she's proud of her mom and is happy to keep herself out of the doctor's way and let her sleep. So it's the familiar routine of silence as she gets ready to bed, finding a new toothbrush from the cabinet and turning yet another light off as she exits the room.

Normally, on the nights when her mother wasn't home, Clarke would have a friend or two to sleep round - more often than not there was Lexa, but when she wasn't there it was Octavia or Raven. Octavia's father was out of the picture and Clarke's house was closer to school than Raven's, whose leg sometimes got so bad it was easier to just stay the night. Hardly ever did Lexa stay round when others were there too though, which was fine with Clarke - Octavia and Raven were loud, and Lexa was the calm understanding that Clarke often craved.

Tonight though, Clarke's mom is home, and Clarke is no longer in high school, she's a woman and her friends are grown up with lives and stories of their own. When Clarke enters her room she is reminded once again how much she needs to move out, it just doesn't fit right..

On her bed is the sketchbook from earlier, resting against the pillow with it's cover closed. Clarke smiles softly as she remembers that morning, that small sense of normality she had felt as Lexa sat beside her, content in the silence of each other's company. It was just like in high school, and Clarke can't help but wonder whether that silence was born more out of untold secrets and lies.

And what heavy secrets Lexa kept. Looking back, Clarke can't imagine Lexa ever hiding anything from her. Sure the brunette preferred to keep to herself, but she was that way with most people. With Clarke there were often nights spent awake just talking, and now the blonde wonders how such a heavy burden had never slipped from her friends shoulders. She felt like she'd missed out on years of her life, had let her friend down. 

How different would their friendship have been, Clarke wonders as she falls further into the shadows of sleep, if she had seen the signs?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hangover, a garage and a bookshop all walk into a bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo guys and gals and all else,
> 
> sorry this one is late, I'm trying to upload fairly quickly but you know, life. the next one deffo won't be within a week, I'll aim for 2-3 weeks, but I am a busy busy bee so just keep your eyes peeled
> 
> hope you enjoy it you beautiful beans

Too much wine is Clarke's verdict the next day. The sun is really fucking bright as it bleeds through the drawn curtains and Clarke really doesn't want to leave the bed. And someone downstairs is making one hell of a racket, talking and laughing and being happy. 

It's Raven downstairs, perched on the counter in a way that Clarke never would have dared to in her younger years. But her mom is there, also laughing loudly and Clarke only rolls her eyes when she walks into the kitchen. She walks past them both to get herself a glass of water and then turns around to face them, but she does it slowly because the light is really bright, and their laughter is really loud and the kitchen is really spinning.

"Are you okay there Princess?" asks Raven, raising an eyebrow.

Clarke looks at her. "Shhh," she replies, and rolls her eyes again when Raven's response is laughter.

"The car will be available by Friday, sweetie, Raven's taking it in today for you," Abby tells Clarke, watching the blonde stagger to the kitchen table and drop heavily into a wooden chair.

Clarke grunts in response and folds her arms on top of the table before resting her head on the pillow of limbs. If people are going to be loud enough to draw her away from her bed, it doesn't mean she won't sleep somewhere else,

"A titanium thigh may stop me from travelling too often," starts Raven who is also watching Clarke. "But I'm pretty sure that this isn't how jet lag works. It's afternoon in England, shouldn't you be up and at it?"

A sigh is heard from the mound that is Clarke, and Abby walks towards her daughter to rest a knowing hand on the back of the neck.

"You're hot, Clarke," says Abby (Raven snorts). "You feeling alright?"

The muffled groan makes its way from Clarke's pillow of arms, because honestly, does it look like Clarke is feeling alright? Clarke lifts her head, hair now even messier than before - quite an impressive achievement, Clarke will have you know - and gives her mother a pointed look. 

"I don't think she's feeling alright," observes Raven, laughing when Clarke shows her the middle finger.

"Go diagnose mechanics Reyes, there's already a doctor in the house," Clarke grunts.

"That's probably best actually, I've got some idiot's car to repair by Friday so I should get to the shop."

"Thanks again, Raven," Abby tells the woman.

"Anything for you Abby, you know how it goes," Raven replies with another laugh. Clarke thinks they're laughing too much to be in the same spinning room as her. 

The front door shuts and Clarke listens to the click of her mom's shoes on the laminate floor of the house as Abby walks back to the kitchen and pulls open a cupboard. She passes Clarke two small pills which the blonde takes gratefully.

"You probably picked up something on the plane," suggests Abby as she watches her daughter wash down the tablets with a large drink of water.

"I haven't felt this bad since graduation," Clarke admits.

"Yes well we'll say no more on that," laughs Abby with a raised eyebrow that makes Clarke roll her eyes again. She's slightly surprised they haven't fallen from her head yet.

Clarke stands, staggers and stumbles before her mom is able to steady her. 

"Bed rest," Abby commands, helping Clarke from the kitchen. Her daughter groans in response. "Come on," continues Abby, pushing softly at Clarke's elbow. Clarke's head is dropping onto her shoulder. "Doctor's orders."

Abby's comment elicits another groan, but Clarke returns to her bed and sleeps off her fever with little other protest.

The next day is easier, and when Clarke wakes up it takes her less time to remember she's in her room. She makes her way downstairs to find her mom sitting at the table, flipping absently through one of those housekeeping magazines. Clarke joins her at the table.

"You in work today?" Clarke asks, leaning back against the wall the chair is set besides and pulling her slippered feet up beneath her. 

Abby shakes her head. "I'm on call." They stay silent for a moment before Abby glances cautiously over at Clarke. "Have you got plans tonight?"

It takes a second for Clarke to think, which is more out of habit really, because she doesn't have anything to do in general. "No," she concludes. 

"Normally, Marcus and I go out on Wednesdays -"

"You have a date night mom? You have more of a life than I do!"

"No," laughs Abby, shaking her head at her daughter. "More often than not it's just us staying in at his place."

"Mom! I do not want to hear about that."

"Clarke, I didn't mean it like that. I was just going to ask would you like to join us for a meal, so you can meet him. If not I'll let him know and you and I can stay in, that's not a problem."

"Show me around the town and I'll think about it, I need to see how much has changed."

Later that night, Clarke is feeling somewhat nervous as she walks into a small restaurant just off of the main row of shops in the centre of Jaha. Behind her, she can feel her mother's presence as Abby peers over her shoulder in search of Marcus. Clarke is glad she wore a skirt rather than jeans, the place is just on the formal side. 

A waiter guides them to a table near the back, and a man who Clarke assumes to be Marcus stands as they approach. The blonde watches her mother send him a smile. He extends a hand out to Clarke, who eyes him carefully as she shakes it.

"Honey, this is Marcus," explains Abby, as if it wasn't already obvious. They take their seats.

"Your mom has told me a lot about you," Marcus reveals, leaning back in his chair slightly.

"Yeah," replies Clarke, raising her eyebrows at Abby, "I can't really say the same about you."

Abby opens her mouth and closes it again, speechless. 

"Still," Marcus responds, eyes warm. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Clarke nods, and looks down at her menu, Abby and Marcus do the same. 

Once they have ordered and the meals have arrived, the conversation begins to pick up. At times Clarke feels like she is intruding, but then she remembers that her mom invited her here, and meeting her mom's fiancé (Clarke still can't quite get her head around that) is the right thing to do.

And he's weird too. Not in the literal sense, but when Abby told Clarke that she'd met someone new, Clarke never imagined that it would be the same guy sitting before her. Marcus is quite honestly the opposite of her dad, which obviously doesn't surprise Clarke too much because she's old enough to recognise there was a reason for the divorce, and marrying the same guy again would probably end in another.

Marcus though, he seems very not what her mom would go for. Mainly because unlike her dad, he isn't the sort of person who will just let something slide - something Clarke discovers when the conversation goes to the environment and she watches her mom discuss some political arguments with him. Her dad would have never done that, Clarke knows, because it is boring and political, and so very not what anybody actually wanted to talk about. Behind her dessert menu Clarke rolls her eyes. 

She pulls her gaze away from the description of a particularly appealing brownie and ice cream combination when a beep sounds from across the table. Clarke knows that sound, she heard it on a regular occasion when she was younger. She masks her disappointment before it reaches her face because she knows what it means. 

"That's work," Abby confirms once she's read her pager. She sends Marcus and Clarke apologetic looks but her apology turns quickly to concern. "I've got to go... How will you-"

"I can take Clarke home, if she is okay with that," Marcus offers. 

"That's fine," Clarke responds. This time she only rolls her eyes internally, of course her mother was called in, and of course they had only come in one car. Of course Clarke would have to buddy up with her new step-dad to be (yeah that's still weird).

So, with dinner apparently over, Clarke lifts her coat off the back of the chair and hangs it over her arm. She turns her head so that her mother can kiss her on her cheek.

"I'll see you tomorrow, sweetie, do you need a key?" Abby asks as they're walking out of the restaurant.

"I've got my old one mom," replies Clarke as she shakes her coat. The keys jingle in her pocket. 

"Okay. Sorry for this."

"It's fine mom, I'm not a kid anymore. Just go to work and we'll talk tomorrow." 

Abby nods, more to herself, and kisses Marcus swiftly before getting in her car. There's a somewhat awkward silence as Marcus and Clarke are left behind, until Marcus nods towards his car and suggests they get going.

It's a jeep, of course it's a jeep, because to Clarke, Marcus screams this sense of need to prove his manliness and his authority and for some reason this just wouldn't be complete without a car that's almost twice as tall as her. She sighs as she jumps into the passenger seat, it's almost more difficult than sitting in Lexa's car when in her dress for the wedding, and that had not been easy. 

Marcus drives, and the silence is not as light or as welcome as the drive through Jaha with Lexa had been. Clarke expects no less, but there's still a fair bit of journey left to take and her lack of conversation this evening is verging on the side of rude, so she decides to speak up. 

"So..." she begins. She doesn't look at Marcus because that would be, well, weird. "Firearms?"

She can see Marcus frown from the corner of her eye. "I thought you said your mom didn't tell you much about me?" he replies. 

Clarke shrugs. "She didn't. She told me Mount Weather, and then a friend mentioned it. Your name came up."

"I see," Marcus nods. "Yes, I train guards."

"Enjoy it?" 

"Mostly. It's better under the new management."

"How are your co-workers?"

Marcus thinks for a moment, face pensive under the shine of the passing street lights. "Professional. Competent. Can I ask you a question now?"

"Sure," Clarke responds. At least she can tell her mom they spoke in the car now.

"How is it being back in Jaha?"

That catches Clarke by surprise, because of all the questions she has ready answers for, it isn't this one. "It's.." she begins, trying to find words for her response. Her vocabulary fails her. "Different."

"Abby told me you left pretty quickly."

"That would be correct," Clarke confirms. She doesn't really want to talk about her past with someone who is effectively a stranger.

"Your turn."

"My turn?" questions Clarke, confused.

"To ask a question," Marcus explains, and Clarke realises he's a very systematic man. 

"Oh, okay," Clarke responds. "Why my mom?"

"She doesn't take my bullshit."

Clarke laughs, and Marcus cracks a smile. For the first time in the evening it doesn't feel like it's all entirely wrong. "That's because she's not around long enough to take it," she jokes. 

Marcus shrugs and turns into Clarke's road. "I was in the police force," he reveals as he pulls up into the driveway. "I know what it's like to have a busy work life."

"I can imagine," Clarke concedes, jumping out of the car. "Thank you for driving me, you didn't have to."

"It's not a problem Clarke, you didn't have to come to dinner."

"Neither did you," she counters. 

"Fair," he responds. "Good night Clarke," he says as Clarke shuts the door and walks up to her house. He drives off once she's indoors.

It could have been worse, Clarke admits when she climbs into bed later that night. She's spent an hour on the phone talking to Bellamy about the benefits of step-parents, and she has concluded that as step-dads go, Marcus is pretty decent. Not that she really wants to tell her mom that.

It's still on her mind the next morning when she walks into Raven's garage to pick up her beloved car. She is greeted not by Raven, but a familiar face all the same. 

"John!" she exclaims when she sees her old classmate. He smells less like weed than he did in high school.

"Actually I go by my surname now," he informs her, and that explains why there is 'Murphy' scrawled on the name tag of his oil stained overalls. He cleans his hands on a rag and tosses it on a work top. "Got tired of people getting me and my dad confused. How have you been?"

"I've been alright," says Clarke, nodding to herself as she realises how true her words are. "Yourself?"

"Good," 'Murphy' replies. "Raven's expecting you, she's just gone to the cafe, but you can wait in her office if you want."

"Yeah that sounds fine," Clarke responds. Murphy leads her away from the garage's work shop and down a small corridor.. Raven's office is full of little trinkets and designs pinned to the chalkboards.

"She'll only be a minute, have a seat."

Clarke does, and thanks Murphy before he leaves to greet another customer. She isn't alone for long.

"And how is my favorite princess?" asks Raven when she walks into the office and hands Clarke a coffee. She sits on the couch besides Clarke. 

"You have other princesses Reyes, you cheating on me?" Clarke laughs, accepting the coffee eagerly. Caffeine seems like a good idea right now, right now being anytime that Clarke finds herself awake.

"I think our friendship has suffered enough from cheating, don't you?" 

"Babe, our friendship was the result of cheating."

"True," Raven nods, taking a cautious sip..

Clarke raises her own styrofoam cup into the air gently. "To shitty exes and lasting friendships," she toasts, tapping the cup against Raven's.

"Talking of exes.." the brunette prompts, raising an eyebrow at her friend. Clarke sends her a deliberately blank stare. "...how is Lexa?"

"Lexa is fine. And she is not my ex."

Raven leans eagerly forward. "So you two are back together then?" she asks with wide eyes. 

Clarke scoffs. "We never were together in the first place. We were friends, nothing more."

"Okay," replies Raven, sensing the undercurrent of bitterness flowing in Clarke's tone as any good friend would. "What about now?"

"Now?" asks Clarke, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"Yeah, what's happening between you now?" questions Raven, waving her hands in an encouraging gesture. "What happened when you left the wedding?"

"Nothing," Clarke reveals. "We talked about everything, she let me stay round, and then she dropped me home the next day."

"And you haven't spoken to her since?"

"Nope," shrugs Clarke. "There's nothing to speak about."

Raven raises an eyebrow, but doesn't challenge the blonde further and let's the topic drop. "What have you been up to then, enjoying all the best sights Jaha has to offer?"

Clarke puts a hand into Raven's knee. "The best sight is right here, Reyes." 

"I'm flattered, Clarke, I truly am," Raven laughs and swats Clarke's hand away. "But it's been two days since I saw you last, you must have done something to keep your mind occupied."

"I spent yesterday with my mom."

"And?..."

"And what?"

"You spent yesterday with Abby," Raven explains, "but what else did you do?"

"I might or might not have had dinner with her and her fiancé," Clarke expands.

"Marcus?" asks Raven.

"You know him?"

"Boy do I!" replies the brunette with a laugh. "Who do you think introduced them?"

"I don't know how they met, haven't exactly been in the same country, Reyes."

"First of all that's no excuse," scolds Raven lightly. "But anyway, he brought his car in here, and what a beast of a car it was once I was done with it, engine purring, as mighty as a..."

"Okay, Raven, enough with the fantasising over a vehicle."

"You're no fun," sighs Raven. "But yeah, he comes into pick it up, and Abby's gets towed here, and your mom is all flustered because she's got to get down to the hospital in less than hour but her car is whacked, and who has to solve this problem?" grins Raven smugly, pointing at herself.

"You disgust me," Clarke informs Raven with a shake of her head. 

Raven shrugs. "Your mom wasn't with anyone seriously since your dad. Except me of course."

Clarke narrows her eyes. 

"Joking, joking! Your mom, though badass, isn't the one to rev my engine anymore."

"Disgusting."

"Nah it was never like that."

"Dare I ask, who revs your engine now?"

"Well," starts Raven, hesitating. "Did Bellamy mention anything?"

"You're with Bellamy?!" asks Clarke

"No he's seeing some chick called Echo." Raven shakes her head. "But Finn came back.."

"Finn's back?"

"No he was just visiting, but he came into the bar we were in and he tried to speak to me, like ewh, and Bellamy basically saved me from the torture of putting up with him for more than a minute."

"Okay...?"

"And we might have both been really drunk...."

"Yeah...?"

"And I might have been feeling really sorry for myself..."

"And....?"

"I might have slept with Bellamy that night, to thank him."

"Oh."

"Yep."

"So I did miss a lot."

"Honey I would have even slept with you if you were there," Raven shrugs as she stands up.

"Well that's comforting," laughs Clarke, handing Raven her coffee cup and standing just the same.

"I mean, I'd make it up to you now, but you're with Lexa -"

"I am not with Lexa!" Clarke stresses, giving Raven a pointed look.

"Does Abby know that?" Raven asks as she throws the leftover cups into the bin.

"We didn't speak about Lexa," explains Clarke, following Raven as the mechanic leads her out of the office and to her car.

"Good luck when that conversation arises," Raven states.

"Whatever happens, happens."

"Princess," warns Raven, "I'm pretty sure that's what got you into this trouble in the first place."

"Bad judgements and being young got me into this trouble," Clarke admits. "Me and Lexa would be better off as friends anyway," she pauses momentarily. "Even our friendship was full of lies and secrets."

"So you have thought about her."

"Yeah I'm going to leave now," responds Clarke with a laugh, climbing into her car. Raven stops her before she closes the door.

"All of us have our secrets Clarke."

"Yeah," Clarke replies, thinking back to Finn and the shit that happened there. "And look how well they all turn out."

Clarke tells Raven to text her later, and then spends the next hour driving aimlessly around Jaha, by the park she flew her first kite in, and past the high school where she used to go. Not much has changed, perhaps there's another building, and the car park certainly has flashier cars then she could remember, but other than that it's still the comfortably small place she spent the last of her teenage years in. 

She nearly drives straight home - it would take less than five minutes to get back now she's at the school - but the thought of that empty house just doesn't quite tempt her, so she takes a right instead of a left and drives back into the centre of Jaha.

A smile reaches her lips when she sees an old friend, Monroe, walking along the sidewalk. She drives on, slowing as she nears her, and rolls down her window as she stops besides the woman.

"Clarke!" Monroe observes when she recognises the blonde. "It's good to see you."

"Hiya," Clarke responds. "How are you?"

"I'm good, I thought you were out of town?"

"Yeah I was," Clarke confirms. "But I guess I'm back," she continues with a laugh.

"Listen," Monroe starts. "I've got to get to work or else I'll be later than I already am, but you should come by sometime."

"Do you want a lift?"

"I wouldn't want to bother you," Monroe declines.

"It wouldn't be an issue. You'd be doing a favour to me actually, I'm bored out of my mind."

"Alright, sure," nods Monroe, walking around the car and getting into the passenger seat. "It's just the second right, and then it's the store on the left," she tells Clarke.

"There's a store there?" asks the blonde as she drives. 

"They turned the old leisure centre into a bookstore. It's massive. You should come in and see it, say hi to Harper, get a book. I think Monty's in today," muses Monroe.

"Monty works there?" 

"He owns the cafe at the back. That's how Jasper met his girlfriend, she works in the bookshop."

"Yeah, I'm confused." 

"Maya is Jasper's girlfriend, and she's really kind so come in with me and I'll show you around if she lets me, if not Monty's there."

Clarke stops outside the bookstore.

"I know you saw him at the wedding, but Monty really missed you. He'll never admit it though."

Clarke nods to herself and parks the car. "I'll come in with you." And so she does. 

"Why is this place so huge?" Clarke asks Monty when he brings her the order and sits in the chair opposite her. The cafe, despite its quaint title, resembles better a restaurant. And the bookstore that Monroe led her through was nothing like the cramped leisure centre Clarke remembers.

It has a high ceiling, and walls covered in art which flow seamlessly into the cafe's space. Amongst the canvases in the cafe, Clarke vaguely recognises a painting she once made Monty for his birthday. In the middle of the store there's even a space for reading, decked out in beanbags and soft pillows. Clarke thinks she even sees a pile of blankets. 

"It's the only bookstore for four towns over, so it gets pretty busy," explains Monty proudly. The sleeves of his cardigan pool at his wrists and wraps around his hands.

"You like it here," Clarke observes. 

"I get to run the tech for the shows they put on here," replies Monty, gesturing to the space that Clarke assumed was just a reading space. She sees now that there is also a doorway leading out of the store. A sign above the door reads 'Drop Ship.' "Keeps me busy," he shrugs.

"Everyone's busy in this town but me," Clarke laughs.

Monty laughs with her. "If you ever need a job you can help here,"

"That's sweet of you Monty."

"Clarke, I owe you for helping me in high school. Coming out was so scary, I'm glad I had a friend like you."

"Have," Clarke corrects, placing a hand over Monty's which rests on the table between them. "Have a friend like me. And I might have to take that offer up sometime."

Monty smiles his thanks and nods towards the counter. "I should probably get back to work before the rush comes in."

Clarke nods in agreement. "I'll let you go then," she allows, standing up and passing Monty her mug. He takes it with a sweet smile. 

"Text me if you need work, it's always nice to have a friend here," he suggests.

"I think I will, see you later Monty," she waves, and walks through the cafe and into the store.

It smells the way most bookstores do, like pages waiting to be turned and spines waiting to be cracked. Clarke's fingers trail along the titles as she wanders along the aisles. She likes it here, would have loved it as a teenager. She could almost see herself chasing Lexa through the store, hours and hours lost to reading, just reading, and being, just being with her. 

Clarke, admittedly, had tried to place Lexa at the back of her mind while she was away. Honestly, she had failed miserably, not that she was too ashamed to say it. Being back though, she could feel the girl everywhere. Woman. Woman everywhere, they were older now, Clarke reminded herself, and Lexa was certainly a woman. She found herself blushing, the what could have been rocking through her. And were they supposed to go back to that? To that in-between? That sentence of something more, but not quite there? Clarke didn’t know if she could do that again. 

Clarke didn’t know if she could let them be just friends again. 

Clarke didn’t know where she was walking either, as evidenced by the rather abrupt stop she came to. Caused by, of course, none other than the woman of her thoughts. 

“Clarke,” says Lexa, her face shows the slightest hint of amusement, largely in the upturn of her lips, the warmth of her eyes. She hadn’t seen her since the morning after the wedding but it didn’t feel weird. “Nice to see moving away didn’t change you that much.”

It catches Clarke, that sentence, the confidence in Lexa’s eyes. It challenges her, like it was meant to, and Clarke finds herself slipping into the same teasing tone she had used often in their younger years. “You don’t think I’ve changed?” Lexa shakes her head. “Oh Lex,” says Clarke, “I guess you’ve got a lot to learn then.”

Lexa nods now in agreement, but then shrugs her shoulders as if she decided she didn’t agree at all. It’s the way she turns around after, as though to leave, that most annoys Clarke. “You’re still the same Clarke,” she declares as she moves, nodding at Clarke to signify her departure. She’s almost left the aisle that Clarke is standing in when she turns around. Gone is the light teasing in her eyes, and in her voice, a gentle sincerity that Clarke recognises most. “You’ve not changed that much because you’re still my Clarke.”

God does that sentence throw Clarke. It throws her so much that Lexa has left by the time she can think enough again to form a sentence. Because that was forward. Was it? And the Lexa she had known was not so confident. Or was she? And did it mean anything? And did she mean it in the way Clarke thinks she meant it? (The way Clarke wishes she had meant it?) And where had Lexa gone?

Clarke shakes her head, regaining her senses and shrugging off the encounter as much as possible. It’s then she notices the aisle she stands in; the section Lexa was stood before. Classics. The hardback covers and golden font enticing her forwards. She reaches for a copy of Alice in Wonderland and lifts open the front. She gasps as paper flutters from the pages. It’s a note, she can see, etched with a familiar scrawl. She traces the words as she reads them, letting her finger run over the slight indent on the page. 

C,  
I saw you come in and hoped you’d pick this one. You always were drawn to the illustrations. I still think you could do them better.   
Don’t be a stranger.  
L.


End file.
